She has
bitten-down nails,
ragged tothequick.
She has
feral teeth,
gapped and sharp.
She has
calves like bricks,
thighs like leopard seals,
smooth and rippling
with liquid muscle.
She is
beautiful and terrifying.
She is
hungry for it.
I’m
older,
wiser,
but perhaps a little weaker,
a little saner.
I’m
older,
wiser,
and my teeth are duller,
but my nails are longer,
and my reckless abandon
is replaced
by a brutal
self-
destructive
impulse.
She will fight
because she believes
she cannot die.
I will win,
because
I don’t care if I do.
